Episode one
"Hey Jack, nice work on the Piano Strangler case, it's good to see you back. I'm sorry for… You know. "
Jack looked up from his shoes and saw a man standing in the hallway. Who was this man? Jack nodded nonchalantly, brushed it off and looked back down at his shoes. He shrugged at himself once confident the man was no longer there. Had it really been 6 months since he left? Christ, he didn't even know anymore. How long had he even worn these shoes? He couldn't even remember if he owned any other pairs. Frank Graham; dubbed by the Washington Post as "The Piano Strangler" had indeed been a tough case to crack. The freak had strangled almost two dosing women in a six month spree, using piano wires, jack though. He felt a smug sense of pride, knowing he finally caught the son of a bitch and delivered the final bullet. The smile quickly faded however, as the guilt of the thought that that final shootout also took the life of another man; Hunnigan. "I can't believe he's really gone" Jack murmured to himself, feeling the tension build up in the temples of his forehead. Before he could even pull his head out the clouds, a group of agents started walking in his direction. The men came over to him: "Welcome back Jack. How's the break been?" A group of four men standing in a cluster of black- tie suits. The one standing in the back reached his hand towards Jack. "Wow, you're really a legend around here. It's an honor, Sir." One of the men Jack recognized as a supervisory agent. "Yeah, they don't call him 'The Hunter' for just any reason. Goldberg; meet Jack Noland, the finest senior special agent here at Quantico. The FBI is proud to have him back. The state of Washington can rest assure once again. You've gotten over Hunnigan's death I assume? I know the two of you worked together for a long time. You solved a couple of very important cases for the bureau, you know. " Jack didn't smile: "Goldberg, nice to meet you. Yes, Hunnigan was a good man. He was a good partner. He died for a good cause, at least. He would be proud to know we got Graham in the end. "Jack immediately let go of Goldberg's hand. He felt the anger rise once again. The knowledge that Hunnigan's death and his blood were indeed on Jack's hands. He felt the fluster of blood racing through his cheeks and would soon manifest in his face. It's my fault he's dead. "It's good to be back, Sir." Jack said. He made sure to get the stench of alcohol off his suit the day before. The supervisory agent smiled. "Miller, Kennedy: take Goldberg to the interrogation room. Show him the building. "The smile faded as he looked at Jack. "Speaking of partner, your new one should be entering the building any moment now. Now before you object, keep in mind his girl isn't in direct affiliation with the bureau. She's doing some internship here. Fresh out of Boston Police Academy, the girl studied behavioral criminology at some fancy college. Psychology major, the bureau is looking for some bright young criminal profilers. Now, I want you to show her the work. Do not scare her off, Jack, I'm warning you. "Jack grunted and turned for the window: "Fine, Sir. I'll show her some low life skumbags. Newbie wants to do criminal profiles, huh? I guess I could need a good laugh. "The supervisory agent turned away. Jack could see something red pass out of the elevator. "Oh Lord, here we go." Jack smirked. "Rachel, Rachel Stevens, over here!" The supervisory agent started to greet her. "That girl looks to be over her head all ready. She won't last a week. I guess I'll have some fun with this. Might as well." Jack thought, scouting the redhead: short, red dress, red hair, confused. "Christ, all she needs is a picnic basket for fuck sake." Jack sighed. "This is Jack Nolan. He'll teach you how to be a good agent." The supervisory agent said. Jack thought of asking him if he wasn't using the term 'agent' a little loosely, but opted not to. Suddenly, he had a brilliant idea. He approached her: "you need an undercover name. You'll need one as real agents do. I'll call you Red, taking your particular way of dressing into consideration. You remember Little Red Riding Hood right? "The girl objected of course. She had some spunk after all. But it didn't matter. "Jesus Christ, Jack. What did I just say?" The supervisory agent exclaimed. The girl looked flustered and tried changing the topic. "So are we going to catch The Big Bad Wolf or not?" She asked, jolting on the spot. "That girl doesn't know what she's barking for." Jack thought. A string of recent home invasions and the murders of young children and young women have led the media into frenzy: "New serial killer on the loose! 'The Wolf' strikes again, stabs eight-year-old girl 14 times." Jack remembers reading in the papers. He led the girl, led Red to the elevator, explaining how that was a little too advanced for her, struggling to keep from laughing. "This is going to be a fucking long day", Jack though as the elevator closed.
Episode two
As the elevator doors opened, Jack stepped out on to the fabricated rug and looked around. "I guess it does feel good to be back." Jack thought, before being interrupted by the girl, by Red: "So what's your deal, Jack? People say you had a leave of absence?" Jack looked down at Red. "I had a partner 6 months ago, Noah Hunnigan. The two of us were investigating this janitor down at the local elementary school, Frank Graham. We had a suspicion that, well let's just say he was cleaning up a little more than just classrooms. Things got heated when we went in for the arrest. I… I was the only one to come out there alive." Red saw the saddened look on his face. "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened in there?" Jack looked more serious now: "Graham shot Hunnigan, tried to shoot me, I shot Graham." Red tried to smile; this was making her a bit uncomfortable: "Sounds like he was a good partner. I'll try my best to keep up with the both of you. "Red said, hoping that Jack would catch the tone of irony in her voice. "Yeah, good luck with that, Kid." He sounded disappointed. Jack showed Red to the interrogation room. He received a case file from another agent. The particular violent murder of an eleven-year-old girl had brought the attention to the bureau. Jack handed the file to Red. "You're the shrink here, Kid. What's your take on it?" Jack said mockingly. Red thoroughly looked through the file. This man wasn't going to make it easy for her. "Okay so the victim's grandmother reported the murder – and, the grandmother's spouse showed animosity towards the victim. Is he the one in for questioning?" Red asked, blazing. Jack smiled, replying: "Yup." As they both walked into the interrogation room, Red started questioning the man. He didn't take her seriously. "Last time I'm wearing this to work." She thought. The man wanted to talk to Jack. "Listen dirtbag! Why did you murder that poor little girl?" Red demanded. The man looked at her, startled. "Listen, lady, I didn't murder no little girl. I didn't like Wanda - she's was a little brat, but that doesn't mean I was willing to kill her?" The man looked sincere, Red thought. After some time, Red walked out of room, straight pass Jack. "So? What do you think?" Jack asked her. Red didn't think the man killed that little girl. She thought he was telling the truth. But she couldn't deduct any leading information from him to who might actually have killed her. She asked Jack if they could check the retirement home out, where the victim's grandmother lived. "And what's your lead?" Jack asked. Red smiled: "A hunch."
As they approached the doors leading into the main entrance, Jack couldn't help but be impressed by how she handled the situation in the interrogation room. "She saw right though that old bastard", Jack thought. But it didn't take a blind shit to make that connection. Jack turned towards Red as they – as he showed the receptionist his badge. "Okay, Kid, what now?" Red felt uncertain, as if he was testing her. "We find the victim's grandmother." The room of the old lady was unbearable to maneuver in. The floor was covered in clothes and other unidentifiable items. It was as if she had given up on life itself. She just didn't care anymore. "Excuse me, ma'am. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions." Jack asked surprisingly soft. Jack had been where the old lady was. Had been… down at the very bottom of one's final effort to keep up with the shattered remains of life. Jack had found his answers at the bottom of bottle after bottle. The best way is to forget. "Do you have any idea of who might have wanted to hurt your granddaughter?" Red had asked, moving closer to her bed. The woman had no clue. She had been devastated by the whole ordeal, so much that she stopped caring. "Please, if there is anything you can tell us it would be greatly appreciated." Red had asked. The women seemed to be thinking. Jack also seemed to get curious "Well, the last time I saw Wanda. Well, she was here at the home. Three days later and…" The woman started to sob. "Thank you ma'am", Jack said, getting up. "We have no further questions." As they were leaving the room, Jack told Red that if this was the last place where the girl was seen alive, maybe there's a connection. "We might need to come back later." As they left the sobbing woman's room, Red felt bad. Her own grandmother also lived here at the retirement home. "Jack could we make a small stop before we leave? I need to see someone." Before Jack could answer, he bumped into a man in the hall. "Sorry about that, officer. Or is it Detective?" The man asked, indifferently. - "It's special agent, actually", Jack said, equally indifferent. Red noticed how the two of them had almost a mental showdown. "Can I see some ID, sir?" Jack had asked. The man smirked and swiftly showed his credentials. "Allan Morgan", Jack had said in his own breath. Allan Morgan was a businessman and entrepreneur tycoon. Jack saw the slicked back hair, the expensive suit and most of all, that narcissistic attitude protruding from his smile. "Ah yes, you own a few businesses here in the city, Mr. Morgan." Jack had asked uninterested. Allan Morgan's smile widened: "More like half the retirement homes in the state of Washington. And please, call me Allan, officer. Ups, I mean special agent." Jack returned the smile. "C'mon, Kid. Let's get out of here." never leaving his fixed gaze on the man. As they went around the corner, Red was quick to point out her dislike for the man. "He was extremely hostile in the most passive way. You could almost feel the sense of superiority." Jack didn't look at her, and Red almost tripped trying to keep up. "Yes. There's something rotten about that guy. Glad your three years of college taught you how to spot scumbags. By the way, what IS your name? "Now Red was the one ahead of Jack. "Five, five years of school, and it's Rachel. Take a left here." As she led herself and Jack into her grandmother's room, Jack couldn't help but notice the shadow of Allan Morgan, lingering in the far corner.
As the late hours of the night approached, Allan walked aimlessly around the corridors of the retirement home, his retirement home. His subtle humming didn't seem to stretch more that the pace he walked in. As he opened the door and walked between the piles of clothes on the floor, he looked down at the old women. Saw the same facial features as in the little girl he had killed – her granddaughter. As he sat down on the side of the bed, he took the old woman's spare pillow next to her head. He made sure she was awake to see the pillow come down on her face. The old women didn't give much of a fight. He felt the fabric of the pillow implode into her mouth from the palm of his hands, as she was gasping for air to breathe, but to no avail. Once she stopped trying to claw her way back to life, through the cotton of the pillow, Allan Morgan knew it was time to take the pillow off. Even though he desperately wanted to strangle her with his bare hands, slit her throat and disembowel her with his knife, he knew that this way there wouldn't be any trace evidence. Smothering wasn't as satisfying as stabbing, Allan though, but it gets the job done. As he put the pillow back, he made sure to close the old women's eyes and mouth, never stopping the gentle hum. As he left the corridor, Allan thought he might check in the other old women who that agent and girl was seeing. When he got to her room and saw the name on the door he thought closely. "Stevenson. Was the guy called Stevenson, or perhaps it was the girl?" As the stood over her, watching, there was no doubt as to who the face resembled. "My, oh my, what lovely eyes you have." Allan smiled, rejoiced.